


A Fairytale Ending

by yorkes



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ignore this, i needed to write something mindless and cute to take my mind off of exams, this is fluffy even for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkes/pseuds/yorkes
Summary: Davina and Kol meet in Europe. Davina finds out in Boston that he's actually a prince.(aka the royalty au that no one asked for but I made)





	A Fairytale Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to ignore studying for my exams so don't fault me for it being subpar please! Once upon a time I had thought about writing a Prince and Me! type of story with several chapters, but then I read an amazing KC fic based off of it and knew I couldn't come close to that amazingness... so when I wanted to write fluff I wrote this weird hybrid of royalty aus. This is basically a stream of consciousness. I am the world's slowest writer so for sake of writing at a human speed I put down anything I wanted.
> 
> Let me know if you didn't hate it! Better fic is coming your way, and by better I mean not a human au because they're hard af to write.

“Davina. Davina, wake up.”

Davina heard Josh loud and clear, but she was too groggy too respond to him. He was whisper yelling at her, and she did not appreciate it. He repeated her name like a annoyed substitute teacher and then finally pressed on her shoulder.

Finally she blinked her eyes open to to see her best friend staring down at her. For a moment she thought she was back in New Orleans, probably having fallen asleep during a math class. When her blinking eyes caught a glimpse of the city zooming into focus outside, she remembered where she really was.

“What is it?” she mumbled, pressing her body up from it’s crumpled position. Davina had frequented trolleys in her day, but the cushioned train seats were a whole new ballgame. They were better than the hostel beds she’d been hopping around to. “Are we here?”

Davina wasn’t really sure where  _ here _ was supposed to be. Josh had cut their stay in France short for some country she had never even heard of, but she was a bottle or so of wine into the night at that point and didn’t want to protest.

“Not yet,” Josh told her, his impatience coming off him in waves. Davina was pretty sure that Josh had barely passed their European History class, so she couldn’t figure out his excitement. “Ten minutes I think.”

She looked out her window to see rolling hills and beautiful architecture. It was gorgeous, like a postcard or something else completely idyllic. Josh’s favorite part of Europe had been the drinking age, the clubs, and the cute accents. Davina agreed with his views, but their new country seemed frozen in time. She peeked back at Josh, giving him a hard look. 

“Josh, why did we leave France early?” she asked, something she should’ve done the night before. France was their final stop on a tour of Europe to celebrate their graduation. They had four more nights left in the city of lights and delicious food until his last minute planning.

“Do you remember Aiden?” he said immediately. Davina nodded, the image of a brunette from sophomore year popping up in her head. He had been cute, but more importantly Josh thought he was cute. And Aiden thought Josh was cute as well. 

“Yes,” she said, after hesitation. Things had not ended so well between them, but not for lack of trying. Aiden up and moved right before Junior year started. His dad got a job in some little country called-

“Wait, Aiden moved here,” she stated after her little epiphany. Josh smiled as to say yes, but Davina’s mind was working quick. “We’re not stalking him are we? I thought we did that on instagram two years ago. In person stalking is a level I’m not ready to bring it to.” 

“I’ve been talking to him, actually,” Josh told her rather matter of factly. “He knew we were on this trip, and he said to make a stop to see him if I wanted.”

“And you didn’t tell me this during the budgeting and planning part of this trip? The part before we left US soil?” Davina wasn’t mad, just upset. More for Josh than herself.

“You would’ve said no,” Josh accused. 

“Um, yes, because I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Long distance didn’t work then and-,” she started to remind him, but she realized how silly she was being. Josh wasn’t some lovestruck fool who thought four days could change everything. She allowed herself a pause to reset. “Are you sure this is a friendly meet up only?” she inquired instead. 

“Probably,” he said, obviously thinking to himself a whole different scenario. Davina couldn’t stop him, so she just rolled her eyes.

“Well, you’re buying my drinks at whatever bar we go to.”

“Fair trade.”

* * *

Luckily for Josh, Aiden was a hot version of his formerly cute self. Unluckily for Davina, Aiden was a hot version of his formerly cute self.

Because the hotel was only a block from the bar and the bartender was vetted by Aiden himself, Davina let the boys go off on their own to catch up. Davina could not handle another second of the sexual tension, and shooed them away without so much as a second thought. The justification came afterwards when she realized she was in a strange country and didn’t know a soul. It was bad enough being alone in the French Quarter on a Saturday night.

At least they seemed to speak English. 

Davina sipped on whatever mixed concoction Josh had ordered for her. She was gonna go for a beer, but Josh said he wanted to splurge. She discovered his generosity was compensation for the fact he was going to leave for a one night stand (or four…, but Davina didn’t want to think ahead about being abandoned that much). 

Josh was the best. Usually.

She swallowed the rest of her drink, and slid off her stool. They were in a pretty sleepy part of town (or maybe that was the whole country, Davina was still confused about her current geographic location) and she hadn’t struck up any conversation to make her stay. Her sleepy part of town included a pretty street with stores with pretty signage in an unknown language.

So far on her trip, Davina had picked up a keepsake for every one of her friends. She had planned on doing her personal spending in her final days in France, but since that fell through…

“Are you still open?” she inquired to a shopkeeper, even though the lights were still on. It was so quiet that she doubted it, but she was waved on in. She shot him a bright smile, and moved into what looked to be an antique shop. She held her smile, because she had learned quickly that her accent warranted immediate dislike.

Typically. 

The store was crowded with objects, but it was pretty vast. She let herself wander, snapping a few pictures of the more interesting things she saw. She thought the store was empty other than the man sitting at the register, but she noticed someone in the back of store, rummaging through a box. He noticed her too. 

Davina kept herself occupied by turning over antique bottles sitting on the nearest shelf. She couldn’t figure the culture of her current locale, but looked very old and very European. The whole city had a mystic feel to it, but it was probably just the quiet playing noises with her. 

“Be careful with that. I heard it’s a royal heirloom,” an accented voice suddenly said from behind beside her. The sudden company caused her to fumble her grip, but a pair of hands came to rescue. 

“Shit,” she mumbled, looking up to see who the voice belonged to. Holding out the rosy colored glass was someone - if he were at a bar and not at an antiques store - that Josh would instruct her to  _ ‘go for’ _ . “Maybe you should put it back,” she instructed, pointing to the spot on the shelf. “I don’t think I trust myself with an heirloom.”

He laughed, and for a second she thought there was a communication error. He was tossing the glass between his hands. Not with any care.

“Now, don’t go reinforcing your country’s stereotypes the second I meet you,” he warned with a grin, placing the bottle back down. “Erik probably got that from a donation bin because it was pretty,” he explained to Davina’s speculative look. “That probably has the same heirloom status as a tomato.”

Davina giggled. An action only done when she was tipsy. Or when cute boys made a pun about fruits. 

“Gullible. That’s the word. You’re frighteningly gullible, darling,” he said suddenly, keeping a keen eye on her. “My English tutor got to adjectives after agriculture.”

“I’m not gullible, I’ve just been told I’m too trusting,” she admitted with shrug, picking up another bottle. They probably didn’t travel well, so she didn’t know why she was bothering. “My friend always said it would cause me trouble? Is now that time?” she questioned, too seriously for a discussion of antique versus just antique looking. Marcel was always getting on her case. 

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Davina smiled. Number one trick in reminding people that American’s are nice too.

“So, gullible American, I hate to the bearer of bad news. But the shop’s closing soon, and I’m nicer than Erik.”

Davina frowned, looking between the time on her phone and the hours hung at the back of the shop. It was past the shop’s hours for sure, but she had hardly been in the shop five minutes and the shop was supposed to close hours ago. She wasn’t sure of what language she was to be reading, but she understood the numbers well enough. 

“He was keeping it open for me to look through some stuff, but I’m on my way out.”

“Oh,” she said dumbly, looking down the aisle of cluttered desks and shelving. “Are you in the business of fake antiques?” she tried, not sure what else to say.

“Some of his stuff is real, but-” he started.

“Some of his stuff is for dumb tourists?” she finished. Gullible American, what can she say. 

“Actually no.”

Davina was on the move out of the labyrinth of a store, and he was right behind her. She kept looking back in surprise. “For locals who want some cheap decor. You know, this place isn’t exactly a tourist trap,” he said with a trace of shame in his voice.

“I noticed,” she said back, and they were just outside the store now, having waved to the shopkeeper known as Erik. 

They had paused, waiting for the other to make a move. 

“Let me walk you back to your lodging of choice,” he offered, extending his elbow. “I have to protect our only tourist. Our economy needs you.” That was lie, it turns out. Davina was standing in one of the richest countries in the world.

“I said I was trustful, not stupid,” she told him, crossed her arms to decline. “You could be a murderer,” she said so very matter of factly. 

“You could be a murderer too,” he offered, “an American in this country is suspicious. You accept my offer, and you take me to a Russian gangster.” She eyed him apprehensively. 

“I could kill you myself if I wanted to,” she assured him. “Which is why I will let you take me back to my hostel. But only because it’s two minutes away and your town is too quiet for a girl to think comfortably.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a laughed. “You know, we had a serial killer here once.”

“Once? I’m not in Kansas anymore am I, Toto?” His paused grin made her rephrase. “Sorry, I meant I’m definitely not in America because you know, crime rates and whatnot. I shouldn’t be making American pop culture references.”

“I know what the Wizard of Oz is,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Wow, condescending too. Americans.”

“Hey, I didn’t know,” she said, raising her hands in resignation. 

“I know what the Wizard of Oz is,” he repeated, and he pointed to both directions in question. Davina started walking to the left to lead. “I knew that one as a kid, but feel free to make references. I go to university in America, so I’m pretty up date.”

“Really? Where?” she asked, her interest peaking. 

“Boston.”

Her smile grew at the coincidence. 

“I’m starting college there this fall,” she told him.

“Well, it’s fate then,” he mused, sounding exactly like a boy in college at a philosophy class. 

They had been walking a little ways apart on the cobbled street, but Davina felt herself drift towards him as they spoke. 

“Who was your sole serial killer?” she asked suddenly, wanting to say something. Her short walk was almost over and she wanted to say anything. 

“Our own personal Jack the Ripper, just less famous. No one ever figured out his name, but he cut the throats of all his victims so everyone called him Dracula. I think he killed twenty one people? That we know of, that is.”

“Wait,” Davina blurted, looking at her surrounding, “I’m not in Transylvania or Romania, right?” It was a genuine question, though definitely sponsored by her sleepiness and strong drink.

“No, we don’t get put on the map for much,” he said with a shrug that Davina felt.

At this point their arms were brushing, but they were also at the point where Davina’s hotel was located. It was quaint, but better than the hostels they had been staying at for most of their trip.

“I feel like I should ask for your name right now?” she said, realizing their lack of proper introductions. She shifted her body to face him, and she realized just how much taller he was than her. “My name’s Davina.”

Instinctively, Davina’s hand shot out as if to shake his hand. Instead of letting it linger it in the air, it hit his arm instead. So she let it linger there. 

“Yours is?” she asked, voice pitched a little higher when she looked up to meet his eyes. She knew the chain of events that were happening, and they didn’t start with a formal handshake. 

He said a name, one she would later learn was Kol. At that time Davina missed the single syllable, because Kol was soon after kissing her. 

And soon after she was leading him into her hotel room (which was thankfully unoccupied by Josh). And soon after that she was a bit too distracted to ask his name. 

He hurried out of the room the next morning without so much as a goodbye. So nameless hot European boy was forgotten.

* * *

 

Until he couldn’t be.

Davina was a month into her freshman year of college a friend of hers was dragging her out. Camille was a few years older than her and working on becoming a Psychologist. Camille had been a TA in a class Davina had dropped after two weeks, but during those two weeks she had gone in for extra help. She was a lost cause, but at least she gained a friend out of it. 

“I have a self portrait due on Monday,” Davina reminded Cami, though they were already walking towards the townhouse where the party was being held. 

“And it’s Friday. Freshman year of college is supposed to be fun!” Cami said for perhaps the fiftieth time in their friendship. Davina understood the saying, and she did. But she also liked to have fun with her roommate, watching netflix with kettle corn. 

Davina left out a  _ hmph _ , but didn’t protest further. 

“So, whose party is this anyway?” she asked, smoothing down her short skirt. She couldn’t think of any holidays for it to be themed after. Except for maybe labor day.

“Get this, there’s a prince attending BU,” Cami announced, as if she couldn’t believe it herself.

“A prince?” she repeated, somewhat alarmed. She felt like that ought to be the type of news that was distributed among American news outlets. 

“A prince of some little European country I’ve never heard of. But still, a prince whose country’s independence day or something is today.”

Davina took a second glance at the brownstone in front of her. It did look to nicely kept up to be any college student’s dwelling. 

In the window hung a little flag that Davina vaguely recognized. 

“My friend says he’s a bit of a pretentious asshole though,” Cami continued, more deflated this time. “So much for fairytales.”

“Amen,” Davina said with a frown. She had a bit of an disenchanting summer. It started by being dumped by her boyfriend of two years Tim. It continued with meeting a handsome stranger only to be stood up in her own bedroom. So much for fairytales. 

“Come on,” Cami urged, nudging Davina towards the door that was milling with other people. “I’m curious to see if the prince has expensive alcohol.”

“You’re a very bad influence,” Davina commented, trying to catch a peek at the flag again. She was already inside though, and even if the alcohol was cheap it was certainly there. Vodka was apparently a must for their independence day celebration.

“I’m the best!” she argued, “I’m your wingwoman. And as your wing woman I ask you to me fetch us drinks while I find the people I know at this party.” With a smile, Davina was nudged again in a general direction. Cami’s actions were all very motivated by psychology, and this one was something Davina would call sink or swim. Camille probably called it something more eloquent. 

So Davina wandered until she reached a table chalk full of options. On the wall next to the table was a family photograph. The golden frame tipped her off as it being unusual, but it was a flag in the corner of it that grabbed her attention. 

Upon further inspection, something else caught her eye. 

Nameless hot European boy was smiling at the camera with a full clan of people. He was wearing a uniform that Davina recognized from films.

“Shit,” she said, not even realizing aloud.

“I know, not the best photo of me,” a familiar voice said. She looked over, alarmed, to see the

owner of the voice. It felt like a weird deja vu.

“Davina,” he said simply, his expression changing in an instant. She was surprised he remembered her name. 

Davina’s mouth was parted to speak, but hot european boy (and now possibly prince) whipped his head around to someone calling his name. 

Davina’s ears perked up, despite her shocked state.

“Kol. Hey Kol, I wanna show you something,” the distant voice shouted. They were irrelevant other than their contribution of her one night stand’s name.

_ Kol. _ Kol promptly ignored the call, and turned his attentions to Davina. 

“I’m sorry about that. Do you wanna go somewhere a bit quieter?” he asked, looking genuine.

Despite her shock, Davina had a instant response to this statement if made by anyone.

“I’m not really that kind of girl... this Summer was kind of a one off kinda-”

“No, nothing like that. Just talking, I swear,” he pressed, reaching for her hand. With his free hand he made a motion in the air. “Scout’s honor,” he promised, and with an afterthought he grinned to himself. “See? I told you I knew cultural references.”

Davina let out an uncomfortable laugh, but she allowed Kol to snake his fingers through hers. He pulled her through the crowd, and along with the way she saw Camille looking on with a look a shock. From the way the girl next to her was stage whispering, Davina could tell Cami was being informed of who he was as well. 

They reached what Davina assumed to be Kol’s room, but it was surprisingly bare for a college student. Upon quick inspection all she saw were navy sheets and a baseball bat lying in the corner. 

She realized they hands were still entangled, and she jerked hers away. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Kol said, looking up from her hand. He had an uneasy smile, as if he was unsure as what to do. 

“Yeah,” she responded, unsure herself. She immediately mentally chastised herself for saying something so stupid. On her train ride back to France she had come up with some more choice words. 

“Look, I’m really sorry I left that morning without saying anything. My parents called me, and I was pressed for time… I didn’t even know your last name.” He was down at her a bit like a puppy dog who knew it had done something wrong. 

“I get it,” she said. And she did, later on the flight back to America she reminded herself it was a random night with a random guy she had met. It was fun, and he was nice, but there wasn’t any obligation after that.

“I came back the next day and you were already gone-,” he had blurted out before processing, “-wait, you get it?”

“It was a one night stand,” she said with a somewhat sad grin despite her best efforts. He was visibly taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

Kol was quiet. From the walk from the drink table to his room, he had worked himself up to launch into a full explanation.

“I wanted to see you again though,” he said, obviously with effort. “I liked you. I’ve had my fair share of meaningless sex, but I didn’t want to say goodbye to you so quickly.” Davina blinked. Josh and Aiden got into a fight, like Davina expected, and they left the little European country as quickly as they’d found it. She hadn’t thought to stay around. “I thought we could at least exchange numbers for when when we were in the same city again,” he continued. 

It was clear Kol was not used to professing his like for a girl.

If only. Davina was still trying to process all of it. 

“When were you going to tell me that you’re a prince?” she asked, finding it almost laughable that the words were coming out of her mouth. His expression shifted again. 

“I’m the prince of maybe 900 square miles, if we’re being generous,” he said. “Besides, it’s hardly small talk with a girl you met on the street.”

Davina couldn’t fault him for that, but she wasn’t sure what she could fault him with. If his parents needed him that morning, the royal sovereigns needed him, and no matter how small the territory Davina felt she was in no place to be upset.

“My friend’s probably wondering where I am.” Camille knew, as Davina knew, but she said it anyway. 

“Okay,” he replied. “Can I get your number? We can grab coffee or something.”

Coffee or something. Splendid. 

Davina nodded, and soon she was typing her information into Kol’s phone. Then she was handing it back.

“Can prince’s get coffee with random people? Do I need to be vetted or something,” she asked, somewhat a joke but somewhat a honest question. 

“Davina, I was prince this Summer too. Nothing has changed. I’m the youngest brother of four, and no one even even bothers to include my country on geography tests.” 

“Right,” she said, trying to make it sound as though everything he was saying totally and 100% made sense. 

Because why wouldn’t your one night stand being a prince not make 100% sense?

* * *

 

Davina agreed to get coffee. She didn’t even like coffee. Instead, she had ordered herself piping hot green tea. 

While waiting for Kol (for the record: Davina was early, Kol was just promptly on time), she looked him up for hundredth time. He wasn’t lying, they were a small monarchy and in name only nowadays, but it still felt like someone was pulling some elaborate prank. 

Kol also hadn’t lied when he made his off hand remark about being no stranger to one night stands. Being the second youngest in line meant he was free to his own devices pretty much. This meant he had garnered a reputation on google.com for being a bit wild. 

It didn’t sound the boy she had met in an Antique shop on the weekend, but the internet had proclaimed it so it did have some kind of hold over her. 

She exited out of safari when she caught him ordering coffee out of her peripheral. It was for the whole world to see, much like her instagram, but it felt more stalker-y than when she checked up on Tim via his own social media.

“Hello, Davina,” Kol almost sang. He took his name with her name, and it felt incredibly intimate. 

Davina turned off her phone and slipped it into her pocket. She had read somewhere that leaving your phone on the table during a conversation was a sign that you’re not actually invested in your real life conversations. 

Not that she was invested in Kol. She was curious.

“Kol,” she said in acknowledgement, testing out his name. She had almost called him Hot European Boy.

“Are you gonna say you were surprised to get a response from me?” she half joked, sipping at her still pipping tea. It was only October in Boston, but it was a shock to her body already. Her hometown of New Orleans got cold, but even when it was cold it was humid. Boston was just too cold too early.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” he replied. He was grinning, but Davina couldn’t tell if he was being pompous or humorous. So Davina just raised a brow and let him either dig his way down or out of his grave. “I know I liked you this summer, and I’m pretty sure you liked me too. Why not continue things when we’re in the same city 24/7?” 

Davina couldn’t argue with that. She had definitely liked him. 

“You’re a prince,” she blurted out instead, though she kept her voice down. “Are you even allowed to casually date?” 

“I’m not the prince of England, I can do whatever I want,” he explained. He said those words like

they were a catchphrase. “Also, this isn’t a historical drama. I can slum it for as many drinks I want.” He motioned to their respective mugs. He hadn’t even touched his, which looked like some fancy latte. 

“What does being a prince mean then?” 

“A lot of boring dinners when I’m back home,” he answered, looking sullen at the very thought. “But besides that, it’s just nepotism and birthright.”

“Sounds enchanting.”

“Don’t all American girls want to meet a prince?” he asked, definitely joking now. He could sense Davina’s comfort rising back how it was back when they first met. They were working backwards.

“No, we want to be princesses. The prince is the annoying part of the equation.” 

She was smiling, pleased with her comeback. She had a stunning smile, one that lit up the room. An infectious smile. It made Kol smile too. He had never really understand the term until that very moment. 

“Well,” he said, realizing he had took his time in inspecting her. “I’m happy to know you’re after the title and not me.”

Davina had taken another sip of her drink, and let eyes moved down down to cup. She felt his eyes on her. 

“Is that not good?” she asked, eyes flitting back up to meet his. She found herself startled at the intensity of his gaze. 

“I… I don’t like coffee,” he admitted. “I just thought asking you out to dinner would be too bold.”

“I like bold,” she mused, letting her mug hit the ceramic table with a satisfying clink. She didn’t like cowering from the fact he had a bit more status than her. She could be her normal bold self, even with the situation at hand.

“Dinner, then? Tonight?”

“I can do tonight.”

* * *

 

They did dinner a lot more nights. And breakfast, and lunch, and snacks.

On the fourth lunch she learned how to pronounce his country correctly. 

During the eleventh breakfast they got into a fight because another girl bragged that she had hooked up with Kol. The fight led to making up and establishing a serious relationship. 

By the twentieth study break Davina knew she was kind of in love with him. 

On the thirtieth dinner Kol tried to say he loved her.

On the thirtieth dinner Davina said she loved him. 

On the thirtieth dessert Kol implied that he loved her. And Davina promptly told him not to say it just to say it back. She knew he did anyway.

Kol ended up declaring that he loved Davina in a live interview with a magazine (this was past the count of meals shared). He hurried back to their apartment to inform her of this, and by effect telling her in person.

Turns out, politically important country or not, people love the story of a prince meeting an American college student and falling in love. No entertainment outlet could resist a real life fairytale.

  
  
 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you! No judgement for the fluff. You know pwp? I think this is fluff without plot almost.


End file.
